Category Archives: writings

“pain is like a thief in the night. Quiet. Persistent. Unfair”.

https://www.facebook.com/alanfriedman.afworks

“my “M”—“the letters”— i remain humbled…and haunted by you “dying in my arms”

My dearest Alan,

I wish to thank you for the time that we have spent together.  Wow, our time together has intertwined for one and a half years of our lives’, who would have ever guessed?  A long shot at best.  Please know that you have given me an opportunity to learn so much about myself; my body, my mind and my soul, my sexuality and I thank you for that more than you will ever know.

It is with that thought that I am so very thankful in my life, when I felt like such a lost soul, that you guided me to a realm of self-validation. I had never imagined myself as the natural woman as I see myself today.  It was with that realm that I have reached the level of love and sex to the extent that you have shown me.  You are a great teacher when it comes to that and the gift you have to reach into the soul…my soul, my body and my mind….i love you,  alan friedman.

I have reached an intellectual level in my life with you that I could never have imagined before, and I except that for all it is worth. I have never expressed or shared so many thoughts and feelings with another person in my life.  Please be proud that you were the one to lead me through this journey.

with all of me,

(yours, and only yours)  “m”

 

My dearest love,

 I arrived at my house this afternoon and it does not suprise me that I am thinking and consumed with the thoughts of you.  Here are is a statement that I feel embodies my essence with you;

 She let go. Without a thought or a word, she let go.
She let go of the fear. She let go of the judgments. She let go of the confluence of opinions swarming around her head. She let go of the committee of indecision within her. She let go of all the ‘right’ reasons. Wholly and completely, without hesitation or worry, she just let go.
She didn’t ask anyone for advice. She didn’t read a book on how

 Am I at times a catastrophe, absolutely and unequivocally, yes………yet, I know I am whole and ready to move forward in my life.  I stand before you new and innocent.  I feel that you stand before me with the same sentiment.  And I ask myself this question as I am here…..why am I here, when I want to be there (with you)?!

 Alan, I love you with all of me, and yes, I know that I have shared this feeling with you many times, and please know that since the day we first spoke that I have only dreamed of you in my life.  The ups and downs that we have experienced, as you have stated, are so little to what many have endured. 

 Ok, once again, I am on a stump and professing my love and feelings for you.  As I cry out; ‘Somebody give me a microphone please!.’  Yup, I’m stump’n for youuuuu……

 Yours, and only yours…..

 M-ers

 

 Can’t sleep.  I feel asleep right away when we said good-night but have awoken only to toss and turn.  I was thinking about how we lie facing the same direction and you reach out to wrap your arms around my waist and draw me near to you.  Then you nestle your face between my shoulder and my hair and gently bite my skin. I miss that.

 Til’ morning.

 Love

 “M”

 

Hello my love,

I want to share with you what I think of all of the many ways you make me feel.  I have extrapilated some verses of a few songs that I felt spoke to the essence of how I feel about you (and us).

The first time ever I saw your face

I thought the sun rose in your eyes

and the moon and stars were the gifts you gave

to the dark and the empty skies, my love,

the first time ever I kissed your mouth

and felt you heart beat  close to mine

and the first time ever I lay with you

I felt your heart so close to mine

and I knew our joy would fill the earth

and last until the end of time, my love

 

 

I don’t know what it is that makes me love you so,

I only know I never want to let you go,

“cause you started something, can’t you see

that ever since we met you had a hold on me

It happens to be true,

I only want to be with you

You stopped and smiled at me (match) and asked me if I wanted to dance

I fell into your open arms and I didn’t stand a chance

 

You touch me and I am singing

troubles seem to up and disappear

you touch me with your love

and I can’t lose when you are near me

I can take all the madness the world has to give

but I won’t last a day without you

Love with you with all of me,

Mary Jean Russell

 

I was just reading this again, and it makes me feel so good. You couldn’t have written anything better!

Love you

M

Sent from my iPhone
Begin forwarded message:

it seems almost impossible that at this time in the evening one year ago I was driving home after meeting you for lunch and a day of continuous thoughts, dreams and activities were in the making. it was a day of “smiles” progressing to laughter as we began an adventure into each others lives; not knowing how long it would continue. well, one year later….here we are…”together as if it was still that first day or days to come so shorty after. I guess what stands out so profusely in my minds eye about you and I, is that from the onset we developed  a bond, a truth, a language, a meaning that we could follow as we progressed down this…”our path” of adventure together no matter what we were doing or going to discover together. it seems so effortless at times more than not that we continue to discover this life adventure and become even more close to each others dreams, desires, goals, aspirations and emotions. you are my “m”…..”mary jean russell”….and I love you for that….for that is who you are,

af/alan

 

Sunday, July 3, 2011 6:28:18 PM


My dearest love,

 Oh, so many times, over and over again,  I wish so much that you could understand the full extent of what you mean to me at this time in my life.  Though I wish, but completely understand, I realize that it may never be.

 I am but a mere woman of thousands on the face of this earth.  I am confident within myself, within the miniscule universe of my life, yet I know that in the totality of the world, I am nothing of insignificant at all.  I have tried so hard to be honest and true, and to be the best person I could be in this chaotic world we live in, and will continue to do so until the day I am nothing but ashes on this planet. 

 Then came you.  Damn, a meteor (you) flashed acrossed the sky of my life.  You were out there in the ionisphere and somehow, someway, noticed this mere woman.  I imagine that you were just seeking another soul to communicate with, as is such a satisfying realm to you and your intellect.  You have, in all essences of life, graced my world let alone the fact that you have been instrumental in guiding me to the pinnicle of my sexuality.  I could not ask for anything more, nor will I.  Many times,  my friends, family and co-workers have inquired how I am doing and how I am dealing with the major events of what I have recently experienced in my life. After sharing with them how I have been faring, and then continuing to share with them where I am now, many of them are (I sense) surprised that I have been able to navigate through very turbulent waters and yet I am happy (perhaps a bit jealous as you have stated and I am no longer doubtful of this either).

 Well, enough of the all this gibberish. You are out in the garage and working on your car with Scotty.  I must admit that I have wondered how you deal with all of this mushy stuff each time I pour out my thoughts and feelings about you and our relationship and hope, oh how I hope, that you will always be open and receptive to my gibberish………and my cornyness.  Yucky, yuck. 🙂

 With all of my being, I love you Alan.

 M-

 

Hello my love,

As I look back and reflect (on hundred times over) our time at Block Island, I cannot help but be rejuvenated by the vibe of these photographs.  The photo of you looking at the camera was in the jeep as you were talking to Jesse.  I took the opportunity to capture your attention for a moment and snapped the shot……I many times ponder the look in your eyes and wonder what you where thinking between the two worlds but truly do not lose myself in the question.  I was sharing the moment with you while you where somewhere else momentarily…..and was happy that I had that moment above all else.

Yes, I know that I sent the other photos to you previously but I absolutely adore the fact that both of us were totally enjoying the experience we were living that weekend. In a sense it encapsulates where we have, and perhaps wished to be all of our lives with one another.  It is incredible that in just a few months it will have been one year since this trip. I hope that perhaps we can make that journey again this summer.

Though I have many (many, many) times expressed my feelings,thoughts,aspirations,emotions about life, love and relationships with you, I feel this continues over time to exemply the pure essence of all of that (in one month after we met).

Funny how that is not defined by any second, minute, hour, day or year that one knows someone, as we have each lived all of that with others, yet now live all of  that with  each other.  Is that too profound?!

Ok, I am rambling, as you know I have capacity to do so. Above alll else,  I thank you for welcoming me into your home and allowing me to ‘live’ in your home/space while I am there.  That is one of those wonderful attributes about you.  Ok, ok…..the trash can stays where it is (ughhhhh, I concede).  🙂

All my love,

M-

Love you, and our time on the island.  After all is said and done regarding the nerve racking economy and everyday stress, it is comforting to know that for one moment in time that the universe stood still enough for two people to enjoy a nano-second of fun in the grand scheme of life.  I wouldn’t trade this for a thousand pounds of gold.   🙂

M-

 

Sent: Wednesday, September 29, 2010 8:02:08 PM

Subject: re: kiss

a welcomed surprise was her first kiss

a kiss as if her rain dampened my soul

deep beneath my frame as her hands touched my back low

a touch so smooth the comfort from her embrace felt so natural

so real, so true, so honest, so warm, so as if we were forever together

time halted, clearing the thoughts of her as paramount vaulting me

only to the present….the past non-existent

her kisses felt like whispers, soft, smooth, wet and her sweet mouth open as to accept me

whispers of caresses as not to stop continue to embrace me please, just do not stop

even our bodies folded into one another as to envelope the totality of every caring moment we had together on that bridge in the night air.

af/alan

 

Hi Honey,

I send my love to you while you are on the road.  It is hard to believe that I am missing you as much as I am when you only left just a short while ago.  I guess I don’t even care to try to figure it all out, but I do know that I don’t want to be without you.  You have permeated into every part of my being….incredible!!!  How did you do that so easily?!  That is the question that defies logic.

I absolutely love the photo of us on my computer screen.  It makes me smile each time I look at it.  It also warms my soul.  A soul that was not sure it would ever feel warmth again. I wish you well with your endeavors today and look forward to talking to you this evening.  There is one song I would like to ask you to listen to when you have a chance.  It is Always Be Together by Pablo Cruise.  It is a beautiful song.  I hope you find as much meaning in it as I do.

Until this evening, all my love.

M-

Oh my.  I read this over several times so that I could drink it in again and again.  It is so beautiful.  I especially like the line you wrote: ‘You are the shadow that stands behind me in mirrored image”.  I am so happy that I make you feel all of these things.  If I were to die this day…I would die the happiest and most content woman on the face of the Earth just knowing that I touched another human being so deeply.

All my love,

M-

—– Original Message —–

From: “af/alan” <[email protected]>
To: “mary” <[email protected]>
Sent: Thursday, August 26, 2010 1:28:07 AM
Subject: re: finger prints upon the heart–“m”–“mary”–08/26/2010

finger prints left upon the heart

the heart you touched

the touch that developed a flame

embers that glow in all their glory

from a flame you started that caused

me to burn from with in where you touched

me so deeply

eyes that stare upon my being

a smile that teaches me joy

joy that brings me peace

solitude, contentment, my inspiration

laughter which evokes the pure essence of life

my life that you so entered

deeply, profoundly, graciously

and yet so gently loving

proudly I walk with you

in the new horizons that we seek

you are the shadow that stands

behind me in mirrored image

wherever you are or go

your presence graces the very soul

of me 

it is your flame that burns so intensely

it is your being that I so desire

it is the touch of you which forwards

me to heights never before realized

it is your body that touches mine in the night

a body that reaches for me

a kiss that provokes my tenderness

a look, a smile, a laugh

which brings me full circle unto myself

realizing the mere pure, virgin fact

that I love you, my dear “m”

you are my “mary”

my “mary jean russell”

and that is you

for just being you is why

this man loves you so

to and for “mary”

af copyright

08/26/2010

from with in “me” af/2015

there are many emotions
that flow from with in me
now
I have always, most of the time: thought, contemplated the fact
that you are a “bud” of that flower
that seeds itself, hopingly in spring
which attempts to bloom with the magnificent
flowers which peddles try to reach the sun
of which are so transparent
from your brilliant, glorious, colors
shine as to show your compassionate soul
your love of life and a smile
that brings the cruelest of worlds
to their knee’s and bless the fact
you graced their life
it is the fall, now…winter approaches
to dissolve, wade your brilliance
and disburse you to the earth below
leaving a touched, profuse, memory
to any who have discovered and
not to mention who have known you!

“there is a word” 07/19/2016–7:17pm

there is a word….
but i cannot find it,
i cannot see it
i cannot write it
i cannot speak it
i cannot hear it
but jesus it haunts me….
today is like yesterday where the beginning starts
but no ending for the past and the future is so far more
distant than ever
than i could have ever realized
for my energy came from “my future thought”
and now paralyzed in a sea of foam, as if it were quicksand and commences to suffocate the magnificence of life itself
it blackens my soul ,
torments my heart
runs incessantly in my hot and corrupted veins
dampens my intellect,
cripples my judgment
blinds my sight
it takes at will my own deserved “manhood”
it tries to halt and not allow me the freedom to create
as i once did
it sheers my imagination, stops my laughter and smile
rips the mere fabric from my shadowed frame
brings me to the deepest of confusion
and yet i fight to stay alive with it….
AND YET AGAIN…for each time
“it takes my breath away”
af/copyright–07/19/2016–6:49pm

there are times more than not…c/af-2015/03/06

there are times more than not
that we are
encompassed in a world that is difficult to understand
thus we are rocketed/shuttled to places
that challenge us or perhaps even attempt
to realign our lives around them
however, we should embrace ourselves
so we can take hold of what is trying to surround us
as to better understand what it is that we so desire.
it is the balance and the achievement of the equaling of ourselves
that forwards us to a place of where,
now, how and why.
it is freighting to investigate, to challenge,
to change our course, to expand or grow
yet explore the unknown to finally perhaps reach
our goals, dreams, aspirations and desires,
thus attempting us to achieve the fruition
of such welcomed self awareness.
our eyes see…..
our minds question
and once in a great while
our hearts get bruised.
so to carry the burden of non exploration becomes a factor
that most likely could or will haunt us for a life time?

copyright, af/march 06, 2015

imagesCAZJGM1O

“create” june 17, 1991 8:45am

creativity or perhaps more profound-“creative individualism”-is a search; directed, exaggerated, fabricated; the emancipation of self and its awareness, authority, controls, limits narrowness and society’s restraints. it is intellectual pushing, shoving, jumping in the middle, to reach one’s own beyonds and yet still further reach for the unknown edge. to be on the edge, to make one’s own reality, to exhaust every possible avenue of expression, means, goals, to challenge the pure essence of life and yes even death. it is “the death of the self” that forwards and promotes onwardness, forwardness, the invention of the new world, its meanings and its beyonds. each word becomes death and dies so the following one can live and develop its own meaning of individualism. it is the making of a new horizon, boundless territory, virgin bloodless ground that is sought. it is to ignite the mere soul, to burn from within, to capture life itself and then to release it, dismantle the birdcage and allow the full beauty in the freedom of flight. it is to make dreams creamy, mellow yellow or to walk on hot scorching coals that scar the already scarred tissue of desire, passion…to wrestle with obscurity, to tangle with opposites, to define a new alphabet, escape the ordinary, redefine the forevers of tomorrow, bring to life a meaning that has never yet been felt and triumph from it, to be the magician—preform the magic—be the warrior and escape and evade death itself and bring the mind to that of the rainbow, multicolored and endless. it is the creativity that seems effortless, the perfection of illusion that is what it is all for and about. the simpler the better….less is more…more is too complicated and far less. the fact remains that the most simplest form is the most difficult to achieve and in order to attain freedom, discipline is a severe ingredient, no matter what we are taught. the fuel that feeds creativity is profound and sheer heart ache, brick by brick, layer upon layer; it is failure that is what success is built on. the restlessness of the heart, its loves, passions, desires and friendships alone make the process take fold. to kiss the lips of death “herself” is the ache, the pain and the tearing of the flesh loved heart. profound beyond “profound love” is most definitely pivotal/essential. it is the imperfection of that love, that is so dishearteningly dampened and the struggle to secure it becomes a battle of a life time. to define love is like to define death; there are no perimeters: only the aches of heart beats that center themselves in the manifestation of the creative process. to love, is to surrender; full surrender is the acceptance of suffering, defeat, pain and failure. it needs to be viewed not as “negative or depressive,” but observed as being “positive”….dealing, handling, using the process to fuel the creative appetite….no matter how excruciating. the process is only achieved through discipline and time….short, long, whatever the duration; it is time that makes us what we are and thus how we develop into ourselves as to achieve the voice that feels and welcomes our words: making us whole, “once more again.” if we stand still, we are motionless and take no risks. risks, uncertainty and danger, is the question that creativity represents.
it is to act intuitively, not instinctively, that brings the creative mind to a higher law than what most are accustomed. that law is “love,” which is tolerance, suffering, and allows all to be as they are…..it is the true meaning and essence of sacrifice.
creativity is love
love should be creativity
life is art
art is life
art and love is full and total surrender

“there are many emotions now” -af/copyright-2016

there are many emotions
that flow from within me
now
I have always, most of the time: thought, contemplated the fact
that you are a “bud” of that flower
that seeds itself, hopingly in spring
which attempts to bloom with the magnificent
flowers which peddles try to reach the sun
of which are so transparent
from your brilliant, glorious, colors
shine as to show your compassionate soul
your love of life and a smile
that brings the cruelest of worlds
to their knees and bless the fact
you graced their life
it is the fall, now…winter approaches
to dissolve, wade your brilliance
and disburse  you to the earth below
leaving a touched, profuse, memory
to any who have discovered and
not to mention who have known you!
you are my high air winged sky hawk bird
above me now that I whistle for you to come
to me
you are such a magnificent creature
so very high above me
that starts to descend upon me
yet almost untouchable
and yet I have kissed the air above you
so few times
but you are alive and fighting for your life
as the wind causes thermals for you
glide higher and begin to leave
you must always remember
you are my lofty air winged
beautiful magnificent thing
I admit confess seem you glide in
thermals so strong and you manage
to stay aloft with your glide
TO TOUCH YOUR WINGS ONE MORE TIME
WOULD BE SO MORE HEART FELT…
BEFORE I DIE!!!
I now realize and surely know something
that caused such a demanding
feeling that so many times I could not imagine
yet speak or even write about
nor perhaps witness in myself as real now
unlike a dream
it is the truth and reality that sets in
this house frame and body of mine
that observation and cruel faithless part of life
is that I am dying from the inside out

“the writers view”

“the writer’s view” june 18, 1991 11:21 am

to write from the whole being the writer can not capture the true essence of what it is he is trying to communicate. writing is that of fragments each unto its own universe. the fragments develop in his mind in order to reach and discover his world, his voice and provide a path of travel. it is not important to know the absolute direction of that or those paths he writes to, of, or from. he begins in darkness, chaos; his emotions, ideas, experiences carry him to a destination, many times more than not, to an unknown place, “deep, fathomless, and indefinable.” he becomes the inner and the outer world, turning his voyage inside out, upside down, sideways and produces whatever it takes to bring his thoughts into view, his view. the writings are the diggings of archeological findings that he chooses to invent from the past and the future. there is, most of the time, no goal, just words that formulate themselves from his mind and the deepest of self. the deeper he digs, the fragments become his dream, his faith, his voice. most of the time dead ends; he fragmentizes so much that confusion takes the place of reality; and in turn he spends much time thinking and regrouping the words that appear in front of him. at times he must separate himself from his writing so that it stands alone and as not to reflect his own manhood.

failure as a writer is not necessarily the failure of the man, but time, maturity and discipline is what makes thoughts vibrant, fertile and riveting. the writer is the man; the man is the writer, inseparable at times, but to be on the edge, to face head on the unknown and wrestle with it; both the man and the writer are placed on hold and faith. it seems apparent the loss of what one loves so deeply, profusely, and profoundly permeates his world, forcing him to the boundless horizons of self expression. expression from what he has loved so, given up, and separated himself from. he writes from the edges and in turn is the outsider, looking in, towards the dark of day and night trying to establish his authenticity, to learn, realize more, make less from confusion, to articulate, analyze, synthesize all at the same time. to make time, that seems motionless, move once again and not stand still, thus making the waves foam as they pound the shores of his mind. his mind can only attempt to go forward by taking the steps backward, up, down, sideways, over, under or the progress is not realized. often, more than not, he writes of what he does not understand, that in hope, with gained knowledge the words and thoughts will become more clear and define those illusions. sometimes it is the decaying of those illusions that give them growth/life. it is the dismantling, the erosion, of those illusions that drive the writer to his maybe freedom. writing is most definitely not an escape into or out of reality of everyday life: it is the deeper side of the writer who is trying to be reborn, renewed, refreshed where the waters are black, deep cold and numbing in the sterility of the darkness which leads to his freedom. it is at times, again more than not, awkward, the paralyzing fear of being tongue-tied, naked, unsheltered and bare boned that handicaps him with apprehensiveness in waters of strong current where life preservers are non-existent. his words are daring; for if not, why proceed…his mysteriousness is what keeps him alive, not talent, not technique, not education……he creates from with-in his own daring ; no support, no life-line; writes, he just does, from his dreams, frustrations, desires and gut reactions surrounded by fields of anxiety.

“the balanced man”

“balanced man” june 19, 1991 3:00pm

the balanced man takes whatever is in his stride of equilibrium and measure: consumes only what he can digest……………………………………..

what about the unbalanced man: balance is what he can not, consumes each inch around him and measure is not in his vocabulary; except when inches determine what he must create and build next. is this man empty of spirit; not religious; not whole? does he not make the paths of travel for himself; is his heart the navigator of his being or is he of shallow mind which is non-illuminated and non-productive? is this man terrified….slipping away from the light into darkness, from seen to the unseen and is he a man who does not have war with or within himself? is he the man who realizes the deeper process of his inward convictions; that truth is a paradox and that he is a refugee in the world in which he lives? does his freedom derive from balance, discipline and the illumination of life’s experiences? can he stand alone, be his own healer and not be horrified, paralyzed or assaulted about his aloneness? is this man afraid to step out of the “middle ages” and enter and make known his awareness in the new “age”! does this man understand crucifixion, what the differences are between it being understood symbolically, from literally..does he? and does he have unlimited circulation of his mind, his heart, his life; everything? and does this man test himself; and from his awareness does he sleep more soundly; does he get beyond phantasy and dreams once he awakens…….does he?????dialogue inspired: henry miller;   “wisdom of the heart” references to; from; by; e. graham howe